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I sleep fitfully and creep and crawl into a new year. I awake feeling shaken and jarred, not wanting to make trouble for the person lying next to me, not wanting the first morning of the new decade to start with tears and frustration, hiding from the truth. The truth is that I don't know what I can do to make this better, that I feel so raw and bruised that the smallest cross word will send me into panic and tears.
And I don't know why. And I can't help it. And I feel so guilty for feeling this way.  And he can't help but upset me. And it's not his fault. And all I can do is apologise again. And again.

I'm honest and the suffering soul beside me brings me tea and steps on egg shells and carefully tests me all day, asking how I am feeling and what he can do. I feel so much love, but it's a love borne out of gratitude, grateful that he's not yet been driven away by my neediness. I want to be strong enough to be enough and feel enough and feel that he's not doing me a favour by going out with me.

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